


Breakout

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2019-10-30 01:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17818979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: This is for the poetry prompt:1. Juist [26]- Sinéad Morrissey, from 'The State of the Prisons'I was exhausted, and then my body broke itself in.





	Breakout

It wasn't like she didn't feel anymore. She felt the smooth, cool wood of the bannister, felt the rough spot on the underside, halfway up, where it had always been, a sort of shadow of the support, recording where the brass stopped her mother's polishing rag on the upstroke, and where she never bothered to come around on the downstroke.

She felt, but it was like a gap was there between the nerve endings in her fingers and whatever it was in her mind that would make emotions happen about it. She was like a thermos - outer wall, inner wall, empty space between.

"Slayer."

She knew he was being annoying, but her own irritation felt like a role she'd gotten tired of playing. "Go away, Spike."

He caught her hand and she walked through the motions of turning, of raising her fist to his face, but it wasn't fast, it wasn't real. He caught her knuckles and kissed them. She felt the lips, felt them touch a still-tender abrasion on her middle finger.

"I want to go home and go to bed. It's late."

"I know," he said, and turned her hand, kissing the palm. It should have tickled. Her hands were sweaty. A lifetime ago she would have been mortified for a boy to smell her sweaty palm, but Spike's not a boy, and 'mortified' means something else when you've been 'mort'. Spike's nose was like a cold pebble tracing down thumb and nuzzling the hollow of her wrist.

A spark jumped the gap - a signal from skin to mind. Buffy's breath caught in her throat. Spike's teeth opened and closed, down the length of her forearm, gentle nips, pulling and releasing the skin. Buffy felt her heart speed up. It beat against the wall that separated her inside from her outside. Harder and harder. It wanted to escape. It wanted out of the cold inside and into the world of skin where electrical impulses zinged the way they were supposed to.

Spike licked the join of her elbow and looked up at her. There was a small line of worry between his eyes. Neither of them ever knew if it would work, if it would keep working, or if this would be the time it fizzled out. "Buffy?" he asked.

Her lips hit his hard, and her hands grabbed the back of his head, pulling gelled hair to hold on.

It worked. For one more night, her heart escaped its prison.


End file.
